


open your hand

by thisissirius



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (Ish) - Freeform, Civil War (Marvel), Crying, M/M, Resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>steve and tony are at an impasse.</p><p><i>things you said when you were crying</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	open your hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tictactoews (jean_iris)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=tictactoews+%28jean_iris%29).



> written for the prompt: _things you said when you were crying_.
> 
> this is like a bastardised version of civil war-ish time. it's mcu steve and tony, with comics!canon for civil war, and some what if!civil war just for kicks.
> 
> enjoy.

Tony's got his head on his knees, fingers of one hand loosely holding a glass of whisky, the other threaded through his hair. His head is buried enough that Steve can't see the expression on his face, but he's pretty sure he can guess. Sliding down the wall to sit next to him, Steve stares at the opposite wall.

“I'm sorry.”

A snort. Tony peeks out from under his arm and Steve flinches at the incredulous look. “Are you.”

It's dark, dry, and Steve wants to shake Tony, shake himself. He clenches his hands into fists and rests them against his thighs. “What do you want me to say?”

Tony sighs, placing the glass on the floor. It's more careful than Steve would have expected from someone who's been down here long enough to drink himself to death. Then again, there's something startlingly clear in Tony's eyes when he finally looks up. “Nothing, Cap. I don't want you to say anything.”

The 'Cap' stings. He was sure they were both past that, even if some distance is deserved. He _knows_ Tony, knows that he puts up walls to protect the heart he's so afraid to give away. That doesn't mean Steve is going to let him get away with it, won't put up walls of his own. “Well tough. If we don't talk this out, people will suffer. So you're gonna have to sit there until we do.”

“Is that an order?” Tony's expression twists with the word. 

“No.” Steve scrubs a hand over his face, wonders why they descend into arguments every time they open their mouths lately. “People have died.”

“You think I don't know that?” Tony snaps, a hitch in his words that has nothing to do with anger. “I think about those kids every damn day, and you know what? I wanted to protect them, to protect everyone, just like you.”

“Really?” Steve feels the anger surge forward, threatening to choke whatever it is he has with Tony. “It sure as hell didn't seem like it, what with you hiding the fact that you want everyone to _register_.” 

Tony laughs, but it's hollow and makes something in Steve's chest ache. “Why shouldn't we? We can't have people just – there has to be some way to find everyone, Steve. Stamford was a tragedy but you know what would have stopped it? If someone had known who Crossbones was, if someone knew now how to find him.”

“You think things like that will stop if people are registered?”

There's silence for a long while after that and Steve hopes against hope that Tony will listen. He wants so desperately for them to be on the same side. When Tony talks, his voice is choked with emotion, with pain. “I used to think being Iron Man was important.”

Steve swallows hard. “It is.”

“Is it?” When Tony looks at him, his eyes are red, wet, and fuck, he's _crying_. “Tell me how important I am Steve, that even when I'm protecting people, others die. You tell me that no deaths are acceptable, yet they're inevitable. You know why? Because even superheroes make mistakes. Registration might not stop things like that happening, but they make people accountable.”

Steve doesn't know how to begin processing that. “You think we should be held accountable for deaths in times of war?”

“No.” Tony looks angry again, and this is something Steve can deal with. Almost immediately, though, he deflates, rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes. Steve's fingers itch to pull him in, to press a kiss to his head and make everything okay. But it isn't, none of it is. “Superheroes fall out. Haven't we, enough times? What happens if we can't figure this out? What happens if we can't come up with a plan that helps everyone, instead of just us?”

“This isn't just _about_ us,” Steve says, emphatic. 

Tony laughs again. “Tell me that again when Bucky Barnes isn't being threatened with registration. You're afraid that he can be held accountable for the deaths on his watch.”

“You know that's not what this is about,” Steve says, even though he doesn't feel the conviction of the words. He sees the flicker in Tony's eyes, though, knows exactly what he's going to say even before he says it. 

“You didn't tell me because you already knew I was pro-registration. You didn't tell me because you thought I would hand Bucky over if registration ever went into effect.”

Steve wants to deny it, wants to pretend Tony's wrong, but he can't make himself say the words. “Tony-”

“You want to know something?” Tony says, whispering like it's a fucking secret, even when he's fighting back the urge to cry. “You want to know the worst thing about this? I protected Bucky.”

There's a tightness in Steve's chest, and his blood runs cold. “What?”

Tony's eyes are dark and haunted. “I drafted an agreement for the Act, you know? That I would back it. But I had conditions. I told them that Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff were free from recrimination for their past deeds. I also told them that registered superheroes would not be under their control, but the list would be in the hands of someone who would impart the knowledge only when necessary.”

Steve doesn't dare ask who, but he can see it in the way Tony looks at him, in the defeat in every line of Tony's body. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I tried.” Tony's lip curls, in self-recrimination this time. “I told you that we should talk about it, but you wouldn't stay and listen. You thought I didn't care about those kids.”

Steve is struggling to comprehend what it means, what Tony's telling him. Their argument, the fall out, none of it would be happening if Steve had listened, if he and Tony were able to talk. “I thought you wanted to mitigate damage.”

“I did,” Tony agrees. “But not at the expense of my friends.”

That hurts, and Steve has to press the palms of his hands to his eyes. “Fuck.”

Usually language would get Tony to laugh, to make a quip about being old, but this time he doesn't even crack a smile. 

When Steve finally has his composure, when he's sure he's not going to break down, he reaches over, takes Tony's hand. Tony flinches, but doesn't pull away. There's a brief hesitation and then his fingers curl into Steve's. “I should have listened.”

Tony lets out a slow breath, shoulders drooping. “Yeah.”

“But you,” Steve says, squeezing Tony's hand gently, “have to _talk to me_.”

“I did,” Tony starts, but Steve cuts him off. 

“You told me that we had to mitigate damage, that this couldn't happen. You didn't _explain_ , Tony. You think – you think I'm in your head, that I see danger and life the same way you do, but I don't. I have to understand, but when I understand, I will back you in every way I can – if I think it's the right thing to do.”

Tony swallows a couple of times. He's not crying so much anymore, but there's a strain on his face that signals pain. “I'm not – I don't always remember that.”

Steve smiles, gently, still sad, but knowing he and Tony can work through this and come to an agreement that works for everybody. “I don't always remember that you'll always find a way not to cut the wire.”

Mouth quirking, Tony scrubs at his face with his free hand. “Is Bucky – is he safe?”

“He's with Natasha,” Steve says. He'll have to call them back, call the others back. They don't have to be divided on this; they have to be together, or everything will fall apart. “I'm with you, you know.”

Tony frowns. “You'll back registration?”

“You say that you have an agreement. I want to see it, I want – I want to know how you've helped.”

“You won't want to improve anything?” Tony says, finally giving a small smile. 

“I'm not going to pretend I won't want to add anything,” Steve quips, tugging Tony closer. Tony comes willingly, slides under Steve's arm like he's meant to be there – and Steve wants him there always, with him, beside him. “You're always about protecting everyone else; I trust that it's sound.”

Tony lets out a huff but doesn't say anything. He presses his cheek to Steve's shoulder. 

“I also want to make sure you're protected.”

“What?” Tony starts, but Steve doesn't let him move. 

“The senator you spoke with, the one that wants to imprison those who don't register.” Steve lets that hang, and Tony's body tenses, every line of him taut. “Yeah, I knew about that.”

Tony opens his mouth, closes it. When he speaks, his eyes are closed. “I wanted to be sure, I wanted to have some control of the Act.”

So self-sacrificing, Steve thinks, wishing he had remembered that, wishing that he hadn't been so quick to judge. “Are you protected?”

“I'm the spokesperson, Steve,” Tony says, his voice wavering a little. “If something goes wrong, of course I'm not protected.”

Steve wants to curse again, but he holds his tongue. “Then we'll come out in support together.”

This time Tony pulls away and Steve lets him, watches his face shift from confusion to fear to anger. “Are you insane? You're going to have control of the list, I can't let you-”

“You won't be 'letting' me do anything,” Steve snaps. “I'll be doing it because if this is something we come up with together, it's something we face together. If something goes wrong, we'll deal with it. I told you once we do things together, as a team, and I might have forgotten that for a while there, but I'm well aware of it now.”

There's a long, drawn out silence and Tony's face, usually so expressive, doesn't betray a thing. Steve wants to touch, to pull him close again, but he has to let Tony be the one to handle where they go from here. 

When it happens, it's almost like a string has been cut. Tony sags back against Steve, nose brushing Steve's cheek and he lets out a harsh sob, before swallowing, composing himself. “Together.”

Steve smiles, turns his face and captures Tony's lips in a soft kiss, a promise of something more if – and when – Tony wants it. Tony's fingers twist into Steve's shirt and when he pulls back, there's something in his eyes that has nothing to do with sadness. Steve brushes his thumb against Tony's cheek. “Together.”

**Author's Note:**

> just a side note; i have a lot of feelings about steve and tony and civil war - especially that i don't believe it was either of their faults, just that they went about it in the wrong ways (understatement).
> 
>  **eta;** if they had just TALKED IT OUT, we probably wouldn't need to write 3928093820 fics about it.


End file.
